Two Sides of the Same Coin
by MidnightOfTheSoul
Summary: Because anniversaries bring such bittersweet catharsis.


Title: Two Sides of the Same Coin

Characters: K, L, Socrata, Carolanne

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Not mine, quotes are from Razor

Word count: 2028

Summary: Because anniversaries bring such bittersweet catharsis

A/N: This was written in about an hour and a half and is definitely unbeta'd, so please pardon the grammatical errors. This goes out to all those kids out there who had/have frakked up mothers, but love 'em anyway.

* * *

Of course, my mom was full of crap about a lot of things. Held on to her anger so tight that at the end, that's all she had left. She died alone. You ask me, fear, anger -- two sides of the same coin. You gotta let go of both.

-- Kara Thrace to Kendra Shaw, _Razor_

_.::.::.::.  
_

Kara's mom never really laughed. She had this mirthless huff that was more a fleeting transfer of air than a chuckle. Once though, Kara distinctly remembered hearing a full-blown laugh emitted from her mom and it was at her misfortune. _Typical._

It happened when she and her mom were cleaning up some brush and downed branches from a particularly brutal storm. Her mom spent a majority of the time finding select branches to start a fire, while Kara ran all over the yard, carrying branches that were over half her size.

"The thing about a fire is that you have to be willing to tend to it, to stoke it, in order to keep it alive. As soon as you let your attention waver or get caught up staring at it, you've lost the battle and the flame will surely die."

Kara didn't know what to think when her mom waxed philosophical, so she merely nodded and watched as her mom breathed life to a roaring flame. A few minutes later, Kara started slowly adding branches – daring the fiery fingers to lick at her legs. It wasn't until she accidentally picked up a deceptively cool stick that had fallen away from the fire did she fully understood the danger.

Flinging the stick away, she jumped around and yelled out words that didn't exist while a smile slowly grew upon her mom's face. Once Kara got over the initial shock, Socrata uncurled Kara's hand and examined the palm and fingers, two strips of puckered welts and angry skin. Socrata took her inside and ran her hand under the faucet, letting the cool water relieve some of the pain.

When her mom's shoulders started shaking silently, Kara looked up to find her doing something akin to laughter, but she wasn't quite sure. The sound that ushered forth afterward affirmed the unusual movement, causing Kara to screw up her face in disgruntlement.

"Bless my soul," said her mother, once her breathing returned to normal. "If I knew you could move like that, I'd have gotten you dance lessons. Oh, the look on your face!"

When they returned to the backyard a little while later, the fire had gone out. Kara chanced a look at her mom and was surprised to find the smile still there.

"The other thing about fire is that it likes so burn. Odds are, you can always start again. But be careful Kara, that's the very reason why it's so dangerous."

They spent the remainder of the evening watching the fire eat away at dead branches and leaves, sounds of nature and the crackle and pop of the wood chanting a chorus in the warm summer night.

Kara didn't know what her mom meant half the time, but she sure liked the way it sounded. She'd file it away in hopes of using it later.

.::.::.::.

Lee knew exactly when things went from bad to worse. The day his mom signed and sent off the divorce papers, she promptly walked to the liquor cabinet and took out his father's prized bottle of whiskey from Leonis. It was given to his father upon marrying his mother, and to mark every homecoming he'd have two fingers of whiskey.

Over half the bottle was left.

Lee found it empty as well as a cheap imitation the following morning when he carried the trash out on his way to school. By the end of the week, there was more glass rattling around in the bottom of the garbage bin than actual trash.

It wasn't until she showed up one day, slumped outside his fifth grade classroom that he realized her problem went beyond his help.

"I locked myself out," her raspy voice slurred as he went to assure his teacher he was okay. He grabbed his backpack in one hand and tugged his mother off the ground with the other, walking her weaving form the mile home.

Lee helped her climb into bed, put a trashcan beside her nightstand and shut the door. He then went through the house and tried to rid it of alcohol. He started first with the usual spots, the liquor cabinet and above the fridge. Then he searched the linen closet, underneath the bathroom sinks, the laundry room cupboard, and hit the jackpot in the gardening shed. The kitchen reeked of a college dorm by the time he emptied the last bottle, thirteen accounted for.

When he got home from school the next day, there was a half drunk twelve-pack of beer that greeted him when he opened the fridge.

After the casts came off Kara's hands, she went the remainder of the year — nearly seven months, without a single injury inflicted by her mother. It didn't matter though; she spent most of her time waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was how she lived her entire life.

The fateful day arrived when her mom was leading hell week with a class of vexing recruits. Kara found her sitting at the table, cleaning her hand revolver methodically. She'd just arrived home after dealing with an accident at the firing range and wore the face of barely constrained anger.

"Sit down," her authoritative tone told Kara that all her mother saw was a troublesome recruit. She complied and sat across from her mom, body clenched in fear.

"I thought I told you to clean your room."

"I did —"

"Don't! Do NOT interrupt me when I'm talking to you. There was dust everywhere, I found a pair of socks under your bed, and you didn't hang up your jeans properly."

Kara didn't say anything, just waited for the imminent punishment.

"Pick up the gun."

"What?"

"Do as I say. Pick. Up. The. Gun."

Kara chewed on her lip as she hesitantly reached across the table, her fingers sliding across the foreign metal, cool and menacing. Lifting it in the air, her young arms struggled with the surprising weight of the firearm.

"Do you know what the slide is? Good. I want you to pull it back."

Kara held the semi-automatic in both hands, pointing it towards the wall as she concentrated on pulling back the slide, hearing it click into place. Feeling her mom's unforgiving scrutiny, she kept her eyes cast downward at the table.

"Okay, now, I want you to point the weapon at my chest."

Kara nearly dropped the gun at her mom's command, feeling a trickle of sweat migrate between her shoulder blades. Looking her mom straight in the eyes, she shook her head slowly, uncertainly.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll do what I say."

"Mama —" she started, but was silenced as her mom slapped her across the face.

"Do it. You trust me don't you?"

Her cheek stung, but she nodded regardless, afraid that her mother wouldn't stop at just a slap. She took exhaled carefully as she slowly raised the weapon to her mom's chest. Tears prickled the corner of her eyes, beads of sweat dotted her brow, and her hands shook in fear.

"When you fire, you only get one shot. You hear me? One shot. You got to make it count for all it's worth, because the next bullet will have your name on it if you miss."

Kara's arms started to waver and her mom reached out and held the small barrel directly at the center of her chest, just over her heart.

"Don't be afraid Kara, fear gets you killed; anger keeps you alive. Are you mad I slapped you?"

Begrudgingly, Kara nodded.

"Good. Remember that anger, keep it close. It'll serve you well. Now, I want you to move your finger from the outside frame to the trigger," Kara slowly did as she was told, clenching her jaw as she willed herself to stop shaking.

"Pull the trigger."

"This is insane," she whispered.

"DO IT! Pull the trigger! Pull it! Pull the trigger!" The yelling continued in volume and intensity until finally, after enough was enough, Kara pulled the trigger.

Silence. Deafening, terrifying, heart-stopping silence.

Her mom's fingers deftly wrapped over the barrel of the weapon, pointing it down and away as she pulled it from Kara's grasp. Only then did Kara realize the magazine was sitting on the table next to the cleaning supplies. Torn between sheer panic and fury, Kara did as she was told and focused on the anger.

"You mad?"

Kara nodded.

"Good. Well get over here, let me show you how all this works. Maybe next time, you'll luck out and it'll be loaded."

She might not have ended up with a cast that time, but she felt the effects of that afternoon much longer that she wanted to admit.

.::.::.::.

It was the middle of summer and Lee had just returned from three weeks of summer camp and had another week before Zak came home. At fifteen, Lee was determined to be a Senior Wilderness Scout by the next summer, and was dead set on perfecting his navigation skills.

"You know, I was a Wilderness Scout when I was young," said his mom over dinner that evening after he explained his wish to attempt survival training that weekend.

"You don't say," he looked up from where he'd been chasing peas across his plate. "Were you any good?"

"With my father, the only option was perfection. He once drove me and my brother twenty miles out into the middle of nowhere with only a pack between us and said, 'you've got twenty-seven hours' then drove off."

"Wow. How long did it really take you?"

"He only gave us a day, but I was very good with maps and your Uncle Zak had a keen sense of direction. Once we figured out where we were, we pretty much jogged the whole way back. Made it with 90 minutes to spare."

"I'm impressed, mom. I can't believe you've been holding back on me all this time," he lamented with a grin. He wanted to ask if she was up for an excursion, but he never knew what to expect from one day to the next.

"How about you and me both go on a trip this weekend before Zak gets back? I can't promise I remember how to start a fire, but I still know how to work a map."

Lee was familiar with this routine. He'd simply smile and nod, then promptly forget, because she finally reached the point where promises were but hollow words.

Miracle of miracles, Lee found himself sleeping under a canopy of stars that Saturday night, his mother's gentle laughter coupled with his own as she told of her first time camping. It was closer to a comedy of errors than a camping trip, but she still looked back on it fondly. Lee cemented the image of his mother's face in his mind — flushed cheeks, eyes glistening from hearty laughter, skin glowing orange from the fire.

It was the last time she ever kept her word and he was grateful for every second of it, especially when he became a senior scout the following summer.

.::.::.::.

Roughly five years after her mother's death, Kara clutches Aphrodite and Artemis tightly in her hands in the empty bunkroom, whispering to the Lords of Kobol.

Lee sits across from his father in his office, clutching the glass of whiskey in his hand on the anniversary of his parents' marriage.

She prays in hopes that her mother, despite her animosity and propensity to inflict suffering, somehow managed to cross into Elysium.

He wonders if his mom was finally happy, actually in love with the man she ended up with right before the end of the worlds.

As Kara closes her prayer asking for mercy and strength, she also asks for the ability to let go, so that if that bullet with her name on it ever makes contact, she will have released the anger and fear from within.

After Lee answers some difficult questions about his childhood after the divorce, he finally takes a sip of some whiskey from Leonis, feeling the years of disappointment and resentment as it burns all the way down, leaving an aftertaste of despair.

.::.::.::.

Fin. Thanks for reading 


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